


My Pain Fits in the Palm of Your Freezing Hand

by izloveshorses



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on The Office (US), Co-workers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, dimya are Jim and pam of course, gleb is dwight bc.. it makes sense, or like early 2000s lol, vlad is Michael but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses
Summary: Dmitry is a salesman, Anya is a receptionist, they're best friends, both working dead-end jobs and find themselves as some of the subjects of a documentary about the average workplace.And he's hopelessly in love with her.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> If you binge watch the entirety of The Office within a month because they're taking it off of Netflix and you have a one track mind like I do, something like this will result :) I think this is incredibly self-indulgent but I had a blast writing so I hope y'all have at least some fun reading it!
> 
> It's definitely inspired by Jim and Pam but it's not a carbon copy of the show, and I don't think you have to like the show to read this, but I'm not offended either way lol.
> 
> Part two will hopefully be up soon (it's almost done! this was just getting really long as usual) so keep an eye out for it :)

“Every month or so, Dmitry dies of boredom,” Anya explained with a smile into the camera. The documentary crew had been there for a few months now but she was still getting used to the occasional talking head interview or the way the camera lens refocused and aimed at her so often. “And it’s my responsibility to save him.” 

It wasn’t uncommon to suffer from such a fate, honestly, spending every day selling paper at this dull office. Why anyone would want to make a documentary about a place as mundane as this, she had yet to understand. There were some… interesting coworkers here to make the day a little more tolerable. But when Dmitry’s head fell on his desk in defeat, Anya stifled a giggle and waved him over to reception. 

“If I have to fill out another expense report I don’t think I’ll make it to noon,” he groaned and leaned over her desk. 

“Hmm, this sounds like a severe case,” she responded with mock seriousness. “Let’s see. Sometimes, when Gleb leaves his desk, I’ll try to throw stuff into his coffee mug from here?”

“Ooh, absolutely.” 

She pushed a container of paper clips in front of him and he immediately started his three-pointer attempts. The two of them eagerly watched for successful dunks, hungry for the slightest mental enrichment, but Gleb soon returned to his desk and the game was over. 

Sometimes Anya wondered if they were a little unfair to Gleb. But then he’d attempt to bully everyone for their medical history (for reasons he never explained) or brag about his part time job at the sheriff’s office, and the little guilt she felt dissipated away. And, honestly, there was no better entertainment than seeing the results of Dmitry’s harmless pranks on his desk mate. One time, he excitedly hopped up to reception and whispered that he convinced Gleb the CIA was secretly hiring him for a mission that night. How he managed to do it, Anya had never figured out. But seeing his boyish, lopsided smile every time was the best part. 

The hunt for entertainment continued on without much success. Anya wasn’t supposed to leave reception, but she received frequent updates on what “games” Dmitry had discovered. Eventually she waved him over again and held up paper clipped yogurt lids and delighted in his confused smile. “They’re Olympic medals,” she explained. “When Vlad leaves after lunch we’ll hold an opening ceremony.” 

“Yes!” He gave her a high-five. “I like where your head’s at, Romanov.”

“Please inform the athletes.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

After Gleb and their boss, Vlad, left for a sales meeting, the makeshift games were a hit. The few volunteer participants had paper airplane contests and coffee trip races and paper football games. Anya volunteered to keep score, as much as she wanted to play, but it didn’t matter, because Dmitry’s laugh and generous medal-bestowing was rewarding enough. 

Until she felt a sharp tickle in her side and a kiss to her cheek. “Hello, Mikhal,” she sighed. Her fiancé tried to kiss her but she just turned her head and muttered, “Not here.” Not in front of… certain people. Of the man next to her who was suddenly very interested in the floor instead of her or the game playing in front of them. 

Not that she noticed. 

Mikhal didn’t seem to notice anything either. “Are you ready?”

It must’ve been close to five, then. “I have to stay late tonight.”

“Seriously?”

A shout of triumph rang through the office and a cheer followed. “Yes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can you find a ride?”

“Yeah.” And that was that. 

She found Dmitry again and felt the tension drop from her shoulders. He gave her a glance.  _ Everything okay?  _ he seemed to ask, to which she nodded quickly. For some reason, even though he was her closest friend in the office, she couldn’t manage talking to him about her relationship. 

Love was safety, security, comfort. It was supposed to be familiar. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself to bury the doubts of her three year long engagement, or when she wondered why she kept coming home to the same man she’d been dating since high school when he didn’t seem to care otherwise. But sometimes when Dmitry would grin down at her and she felt her heart and stomach switch places dangerously, she wasn’t so sure.

* * *

Dmitry would never forget his first day as a salesman here. 

She had been wearing glasses that day. Hair down, blue eyes unforgiving, but smile radiant and oh so welcoming. “Take a moment,” she’d said, “because you’ll never get to go back to a time before knowing your desk mate.”

“Oh no!” He’d grinned. “Is there a way you can prepare me for what’s to come?”

“I don’t think I can do him justice.”

Before he could think of something clever to say Gleb had charged in with a firm handshake and a threat to never attempt to surpass him as top salesman. That night, Dmitry had sunk Gleb’s calculator into a jello mold, and ever since then he couldn’t stop himself from finding every single possible prank to make the receptionist laugh. 

When her fiancé first appeared, he reoriented himself and his boundaries. No flirting, fine. But he could still try to be her friend. 

Falling in love with her, though, was out of his control. 

He couldn’t help it. At this point Anya handled Vlad’s enthusiasm like a champ, but still managed to stand her ground and maintain her dignity. She was so easy to talk to, and sometimes it felt like her eyes pierced right through him, knowing what he was about to say even before the thought formed in his head. On the days where the memories of his father made his head and chest ache more than usual she’d notice and leave a cup of tea on his desk, keeping him from rebuilding and re-trapping himself in his own walls again. Or even the littlest things— the splatter of freckles on her nose and cheeks that crinkled when she laughed, the way she twirled a finger through her hair when she talked, the bewildered stifled laugh she’d aim at him when something insane happened during one of the many meetings in the conference room— all of it was hard to resist. 

Yesterday one of said meetings was so endless he felt her head land on his shoulder. He held his breath and glanced down, smiling to himself when he saw she’d fallen asleep, wishing he could step out of time and live in this moment for the next year or so. But inevitably, the meeting finished and he had to softly wake her up to his disappointment. 

Up until the documentary crew showed up, he thought he was hiding it well. But then he noticed how often the cameras tracked every smile in her direction or how frequently he was questioned about his feelings for Anya. He obviously didn’t deliberately share much on purpose— artistic creativity or not, they had no business trying to reach inside his mind. But their presence certainly made him a little more… self-conscious. Aware. Every time he hopped up to her desk he’d glance at the camera lens, like he was caught, and tried to forget again they were there. 

Vlad was still out on an important sales meeting with Lily— God help her— long after five, but, feeling like children left in a classroom without their teacher, everyone hung around for a bit. Marfa has found an old murder mystery board game earlier and… well. It was much more riveting than selling paper. 

“Attention!” Gleb started, standing with his arms crossed. He’d refused to play because he claimed he didn’t believe in having fun in a place of business. “Everyone, listen up!”

“You know, saying ‘attention’ is kind of unnecessary,” Dmitry said from his seat. “We’re already listening because you’re yelling.”

“I have an announcement to make!” Gleb pressed on. 

“An announcement you could’ve already finished announcing. Very inefficient, Vaganov.”

“It has come to my attention that it is after five. Since the work day is over, and it seems like no one is leaving, I will be launching fireworks from the parking lot across the street in approximately fifteen minutes.” Dmitry’s eyebrows shot up as he swiveled his chair to face a pleasantly surprised Anya, who gave him an impressed shrug. “Whether you’ll attend or not is not my concern so don’t bother me with it.”

“What’s the occasion?” Some day Gleb was going to lose it, and Dmitry was willing to risk stepping on every toe to find out when. “Getting soft on us?”

“No, I’m— they’re in the trunk, and an anonymous co-worker suggested the sky was clear enough tonight for them.”

“Mysterious. Isn’t it illegal?”

“If anyone is capable of safely launching fireworks on business property, it’s me.”

When Dmitry swiveled back around in Anya’s direction, she wasn’t there. Brow furrowed, he stood up to peak around the corner, and he caught a glimpse of the back of her head through the glass door, and Mikhal’s annoyed face. The man always looked annoyed, wasn't it exhausting? When he heard some muffled yelling he stepped out of sight. No need to step over the boundaries more than necessary, no matter how much he wanted to. 

While he was packing up she came back inside, jaw firm. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” she dismissed. “Are you staying to watch the Gleb show?”

No, he had a date tonight, actually. One he was already late to. “Obviously. Who’d want to miss whatever he’s got planned?” He cracked a smile in the hopes that she’d relax into her usual self. 

“Good. I’m starving, do you think there’s any snacks in the break room?”

“Well, lucky for you,” he set his satchel down, “I make the world’s greatest grilled cheese, and all of the materials are here.”

She finally smiled. “I have a good picnic spot, if you can keep it a secret.”

“Deal.”

Later, with several bags of chips from the vending machine, two grilled cheese sandwiches, and four sodas in hand, they climbed onto the roof of the building through a maintenance ladder. Just in time, too, for the fireworks to start. “Impressed?” He asked after they got settled. 

She swallowed her bite. “I suppose it’s not bad.”

“Not bad? This could win awards!”

“Humility is definitely not your strongest quality,” she laughed. “To think you could’ve been making grilled cheese for a career…”

“To think you could’ve been making snarky comments for yours.”

“Ditto.” A small moment of comfortable silence passed as they ate. “Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I don’t think you ever talked about why you wanted the job here.”

He frowned. “I don’t know that I ever really  _ wanted _ to be a salesman, to be honest. But it was open and I needed the money, so…” he shrugged. 

“But like, you could’ve done anything you wanted, and you chose this job instead.”

He barked a laugh. “I appreciate the compliment, but no, there’s not much I can do.”

“I’m serious! You’re smart. There’s a lot more world out there for you than you realize, if you’d just try.”

He swallowed, staring. This was one of those stupid moments where he  _ really _ wanted to kiss her. Clearing his throat, he said, “Okay Romanov, what about you then? With all of your family connections you didn’t have to be a receptionist.”

She rolled her eyes while he munched on his chips and waited. “I don’t know, I just…” she sighed. “I wanted to be independent I guess. It’s not like I dreamed as a little girl that I wanted to be a receptionist, but I’m good at it, and I didn’t want to have to rely on my family.” Then she laughed to herself. “That sounded so stupid.”

“No! It makes sense,” he rushed to say. Which was true.

She shrugged and opened another bag of chips. Wordlessly they watched the rest of the little firework display in the dark, and that was the end of the conversation. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about her question. Truthfully, this job was supposed to be temporary— Lily even offered him a position at a different branch, one with higher pay and more benefits and influence, all the things Anya was saying he deserved. 

But he couldn’t leave her. 

* * *

Anya thought Dmitry was great at impressions. Not many other people found it as amusing as she did— mostly because they were victims to his very accurate depictions of them— but she laughed anyway. And it passed the time, which was always a rare blessing here. 

In the break room Gleb found them giggling and was apparently annoyed enough to lecture about the importance of maturity in the workplace. “You are not as funny as you think you are,” he finished before storming off.

Watching the door close behind him, she and Dmitry glanced back at each other again and said at the same time, mocking Gleb’s stiff voice, “You are  _ not _ as funny as you think you are!”

They laughed and Anya gasped. “Wait— jinx!” He opened his mouth but she interrupted him. “No, you can’t say anything until you buy me a coke, those are the rules!” 

He sighed theatrically, proud and dramatic as ever, and fished for some quarters from his pocket. This was probably her favorite part about him— he could’ve easily laughed and carried on chatting like he normally would, and she wouldn’t have cared, but he decided to lean into the joke as much as possible, no matter how inconvenient or silly. He made everything into a game and that made every day so much easier. Not easier— more fun. 

The vending machine, however, made his day more difficult.  _ Out of stock _ blinked on the little screen and she almost cackled. Her schedule just became incredibly busy with figuring out how to get him to crack. 

He didn’t, though. Not once. Not when she volunteered him to share a personal story at the daily ridiculous conference meeting, not when he was stuck listening to Dunya talk about celebrity gossip, not when he sat and stared at his ringing phone and Gleb shouted at him to answer it. 

There was one moment, though, when he was close, she could tell, when they were finishing up their lunches in the break room. This was one of the few occasions when Anya remembered how attractive Dmitry was. Objectively, of course. He had nice shoulders, good forearms when he rolled up his sleeves. Kissable dimples and lips. Hair that was so play-with-able her fingers itched. Sleepy eyes, but warm and soft around the edges, despite how hard he tried to appear otherwise. 

“You look like you want to say something,” she teased, her motives transparent. He only raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee. “Come on, it looks really important.” She could tell his smile widened behind his mug because his dimples creased deeper in his cheeks. She reached over and pulled his hand down, thinking annoying him enough would be the breaking point. “Dmitry, you can tell me anything.”

Slowly his smile fell, and she caught up with the earnestness in her words, what they meant. All of the teasing in his eyes faded away and his lips parted slightly and for some reason Anya couldn’t define tension thickened between them. She watched the column of his throat as he swallowed, the single, slow blink of his eyes, the way his chest stilled like he stopped breathing. Beneath her sternum her heart quickened to a dangerous speed. What could he possibly want to say  _ this _ much? And why was she so terrified of what might come out of his mouth— or what won’t?

He did break the silence after what felt like a century, but not with words. He stood up and almost ran back to his desk, leaving her completely baffled at the table. 

Later she came back into the office after running an “errand” for Vlad. Instead of walking to her desk and shrugging off her coat she immediately went straight to Dmitry and dropped a small soda can onto his desk. 

“Buy it from me?” she asked. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Come on. I know you’re too proud to mess up the joke, but I miss talking to you and this is getting kind of ridiculous.” When he didn’t react she nudged the can closer with three little taps.

Finally he grinned, the lopsided one she loved the most, and plopped a dollar bill onto the desk, ceremoniously lifting the can and setting it a few inches back in front of her. She took it and looked at him pointedly. “Hi,” he said, sounding a little relieved.

“Hi.” A smile split her face. “Do you have a minute?”

“God,  _ please.” _

She giggled and they moved to the break room for the third time that day to chat. Apparently Vlad had confessed to Dmitry that he’d been secretly seeing Lily for a few months now and couldn’t hold it in any more, which gave them plenty to discuss during his fifteen minute break. In the back of her mind, though, she wondered if there was something else he wanted to talk about, and what would happen if her hunch was correct.

* * *

Vlad was a man of many ideas, and at this point Dmitry thought he couldn’t be surprised by him anymore, but a booze cruise in February to “boost morale” was definitely new. 

For some reason Dmitry thought bringing Katya was a good idea. He’d gone out with her a few times now, and guiltily enjoyed distracting himself from the feelings for a certain receptionist he’d yet to shake, but when they found themselves at a booth with Anya and Mikhal he almost wanted to jump overboard. Katya and Mikhal certainly had a lot in common, so he just kept giving Anya weird looks while the two carried the entire conversation. 

Then the night got a little wild. Mikhal was trying to get Anya to do a snorkel shot after sucking down one of his own when she stormed off to the bow of the ship (stern? He had no understanding of boat anatomy). Dmitry counted to ten, his fists opening and closing on the table, before deciding to follow her. 

“You’re missing the limbo dance,” he joked from a few feet away on the railing. 

She smiled and ducked her head into her scarf. Her nose was pink from the bitter cold, her hands stuffed deep into her coat pockets. He wished he could wrap an arm around her to warm her up. “Sometimes I just… don’t understand Mikhal.”

He inhaled. In all their years of friendship, no matter how frustrated she was and how she didn’t want to show it, she never brought up her relationship to him like this. Her silence afterwards made him wonder… what exactly she expected him to say. 

He’d told himself over and over again to swallow whatever he felt for her and hope it would pass soon. If he could just keep his head down until… well, he stopped loving her or found someone else, he guessed, no one would need to know. Their paths would diverge and he could move on. 

But now, on that stupid boat, he wanted to do it. To throw caution to the freezing wind and tell her everything. The speech he’d prepared in his head over the years, where he told her she could actually be happy for once or where he asked why she thought that guy could ever love her the way she deserved, climbed up through his chest and onto the tip of his tongue.  _ Just say it, _ he scolded himself.  _ Or just tell her you love her and let her figure out the rest.  _ No, that would’ve been selfish. But he had to say  _ something  _ and now was the time to do it because she basically just dropped an opening onto his lap and she was looking up at him so expectant and so impossibly  _ vulnerable  _ his heart cracked. 

Instead the only noise was the sound of waves crashing onto the boat while he stared, holding his breath. 

Eventually she dropped her gaze, either shaking off disappointment or sagging with relief. “It’s getting cold,” she muttered before slowly peeling away from him. He stayed glued in place out on the deck until he started to shiver.

Back inside, in the middle of the dance floor, Anya and Mikhal were holding each other and laughing, making him stop in his tracks and turn right back around. Someone behind him commented how romantic it was to finally set a wedding date and his pace quickened.

Dmitry had never felt sick on a boat before, but he felt like he was about to hurl over into the sea. Clinging to the icy railing, he heaved once before hearing footsteps behind him. He sniffed and tried to appear like he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. Thankfully, though, it was only Vlad, muttering something about how the captain kept interrupting his leadership seminar. “Are you alright, my boy? Too much booze for one night?”

In spite of himself Dmitry laughed. “No, that’s not it. I’m—”  _ I’m fine. _ No, he wasn’t. He had to say the words crushing his chest before he passed out. “I’m… it’s Anya. I’m in— I have a crush on her.”

So elementary. So childish. But Vlad only patted his back while he took a shaky breath. “It’ll get better, son. There are more opportunities out there.”

_ Yeah, and I just missed it. _ But he nodded and shrugged off Vlad’s hand and decided to walk around the boat, unable to stand still. When he’d watch movies he never understood why the characters never confessed their feelings, or why it felt like the whole plot revolved around their only source of happiness not loving them back. If everyone would learn to be independent and realize that taking care of yourself was better than anything else, they all would be happier. He got it now though. This ache was unbearable. 

Watching the waves on the moonlit horizon he thought about the opportunities Vlad could’ve been talking about. Was he encouraging Dmitry to pursue his feelings, as if they weren’t just a childish infatuation like he thought? Or did he say that to make him consider other options? 

Sighing to himself, he tossed aside whatever Vlad might’ve been implying. Regardless of everything it was time for Dmitry to make a decision. Reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone, he dialed a number with shaking fingers, and it rang three times before she answered. “Lily? Hi, this is Dmitry, and I’m calling you back about the job transfer…”

* * *

“Wait, hold on,” Maria’s voice fuzzed through the speaker of the receiver, “Dmitry said this? The guy at your work?”

Anya nodded and then remembered her sister couldn’t see her. “Yeah.” 

“When did it happen?”

“Like, a few minutes ago.” Anya fiddled with the spiral cord of the phone behind her desk, twisting it anxiously around her finger. 

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know, I panicked.”

It had all crashed down so fast— but, truthfully, Anya would’ve only been in denial if she said she hadn’t seen it coming. It wasn’t like the signs weren’t planted over the past two years. But she just… hadn’t expected it  _ tonight,  _ she guessed. 

The office and the other companies in the building were holding an annual casino night for charity— when Lily reminded Vlad that it was illegal to gamble on this property, he only waved his hand dismissively and said not to think of it as a gambling night, but rather a “party with games and lots of drinking”— and it was actually one of the funnest nights she’d had in a while. Usually she was annoyed when she had to stay late at work but it was nice to spend time with everyone in a more relaxed setting and dress up for a bit. Sure, Mikhal just stood around and drank with the other warehouse guys the whole time, but at least Dmitry was there to keep her company.

Maybe it was unhealthy. She was having a blast showing off her poker skills, watching Dmitry finally struggle at something, and, okay, maybe some flirting was going on. It was hard not to. And to her defense, it was hard to find the line between flirting and teasing when it came to someone like him. He just made her laugh too easily, and she loved it when he smiled wide enough that his dimples popped in his cheeks, and even if she intended to be friendly she couldn’t explain the confusing and not-so-friendly emotions swirling in her gut.

Out in the parking lot, Anya was saying goodbye to Mikhal— he was “just  _ so _ beat, babe,” that he didn’t want to stay out much later, and she was fine with finding another ride— when Dmitry found her. “Hey, can I— can we talk about something?”

She hadn’t noticed the seriousness blanketing his face. “Is it about how  _ miserably _ you lost that game?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “No, it’s—”

“Are you here to let me take more money from you? Because I can!” She grinned up at him to show she was teasing but he didn’t return her smile.

“I love you.”

Oh. “What?” she choked.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, more confident in the words this time, breaking her heart. “I know it’s bad timing, and probably unfair and selfish of me to say this now, but I am.”

She should’ve seen this coming. A small part of her had wondered if he ever would say anything, or if either of them would eventually say anything, about what was between them, and what would happen after. She wasn’t as oblivious as she pretended to be sometimes. For months now she… well, she wasn’t exactly planning how she’d respond, but she knew what she wanted to say.  _ God, please tell me to dump the man who wasted over three years of my life, _ or  _ Look, I like you a lot too but we can’t, _ or, the big one she still wasn’t sure was true or not,  _ I love you too. _ Instead that familiar fear crawled up her throat and her only response was, “What am I supposed to say to that?”

“You don’t—” He shook his head. “You don’t need to say anything. I just… needed you to know.”

The silence stretched on. For the first time, Anya had no idea what to say to him. “I’m sorry if… you thought I was leading you on, or whatever, but I—” he was shaking his head but she pressed on, “I really— your friendship means a lot to me—”

“No,” a line creased between his brows and her stomach plummeted when she heard a slight tremor in his voice. “I want to be more than that.”

She fiddled with the zipper on her purse. Slowly meeting his gaze again, she shook her head, her body on autopilot. “I hope this doesn’t… we can still be friends.”

He ducked his head and pursed his lips with what she thought could’ve been a forced smile. When he looked back up at her his eyes were red, glistening, cracked. Hands in his pockets he brushed past her. “I’m sorry for misinterpreting our friendship.”

She’d stood in the parking lot for what felt like hours as the weight of what just happened crashed down in her chest. At some point she must’ve climbed the stairs to the second floor, unlocked the office, and frantically dialed her sister’s number, because how else would she be on this phone call now? All she knew was she needed to consult  _ someone _ before she did something reckless or collapsed in on herself, and the only person who would’ve listened with a steady voice and without an ounce of judgement was Maria.

“Wow, Nastya,” Anya heard a huff as Maria sighed into the phone, the following pause almost unbearable. “Do you love him?”

Anya’s gut reaction was to defensively yell  _ obviously not, I’m engaged to another man, _ but the question poked a different nerve instead. She thought back to their two years here, how easy it was to smile around him, how his smile was comfortable and dangerous at the same time, how he made her feel special, for once. How she wanted to make him feel that way, too. “Yeah. I think I do.”

The door clicked open and she caught a glimpse of the low emergency light reflecting on his hair before anything else. “Um— I have to go,” she stuttered into the phone and didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. 

“Dmitry, about earlier—” whatever response she was about to stutter out died on her tongue when he stepped around to her side of the desk. Her traitorous legs pulled her closer, unable to resist being near him, as always, and she failed to protest when he brushed a loose hair from her face, his fingertips warm. Or when his other hand, as if magnetically, found its way to her back. Or when his lips fell down onto hers. 

She shouldn’t have enjoyed the kiss as much as she did. It was soft, tender in the same way she felt about him, his cheek warm under her hand. He pulled away as quickly as he came and she almost pulled him back down because it was so unfair to only have a  _ taste _ after these emotions were finally able to fly freely. Her eyes fluttered open to a very close Dmitry. 

For a second they waited in silence for the other to make the next move. But then he grinned, and it was so infectious she smiled too, her index finger tracing around his dimple like she’d wanted to for a long time. “I’m sorry,” his voice was a little raspy, making her heart beat so hard she wondered if it was going to jump out of her chest, “I just— I can’t tell you how long I wanted to do that.”

“Me too,” she confessed. When he started to lean in again she panicked, finally remembering why she hadn’t kissed him before. “Dmitry—” her hand left his face but still lingered on his arm. “I can’t.”

He nodded, like he was expecting it. “You’re still going to marry him?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” His voice wasn’t angry or vengeful, which was a relief, but somehow his acceptance and unspoken promise to never bring it up again made it worse. “Goodnight, Anya.”

If the episode in the parking lot was a blur, this was the exact opposite— time slowed, each second an eternity, and Anya felt every nerve lose the sensation of his hands holding hers as he pulled away, heard every footstep out the door, felt every heartbeat in the darkness after he was gone. 

She didn’t know how long she stood against her desk where he left her, brushing over her lips with her fingers, guilt and hunger fighting inside her stomach.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!! I honestly didn't think this would get any attention at all, so I'm glad you guys seem to be enjoying it as much as I did writing it. Seriously I can't appreciate y'all enough!!

“Why did I break up with Mikhal?” she repeated the documentarian’s question, hoping the camera didn’t catch the sarcasm in her voice. “I guess I… I don’t know. We’ve both changed a lot since we got engaged… four years ago now. It just didn’t make sense anymore.”

“What made you realize you wanted a change?”

Her eyebrows rose. She knew exactly what they wanted her to say, and maybe they weren’t wrong, but she wasn’t obligated to share the truths with anyone before she made peace with those truths herself. “It was just time.”

No, she insisted Dmitry wasn’t the reason she and Mikhal broke up. The only thing she was sure of was she didn’t want to marry that man. Those two truths were entirely unrelated. Dmitry had transferred to another branch a few weeks ago. The casino night party was the last she’d seen of him, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t haunted by the disappointment in his eyes or the way her mouth fit into his. Now in his old desk was Greggory, who was already squirming with how many times she’d looked up at him, a habit she hadn’t realized was this difficult to break. No, she wouldn’t kiss him.

The days felt incredibly longer than usual. On her way out one night, when she was the last to leave the office— not an unusual occurrence lately— the phone rang. She considered letting it go to voicemail, but… she picked up the receiver. “Petersburg Paper, this is Anya.”

“Oh.” That voice made her heart drop to her toes. “I didn’t think you’d still be there.”

It was an uncomfortably long time before she thought of anything to say. “Why are you calling?”

“Sorry, I— it’s this thing Vlad and I play online, I couldn’t remember his extension,” Dmitry explained. Anya could picture exactly how he looked— the way his hand was probably musing his hair, his chin ducked into his chest, his lips curling into an uncomfortable half-smile. “Why are you there so late? It’s almost six.”

She sighed. “Lily tasked me with recording everything Vlad did today to monitor his productivity.”

“Oh my god,  _ please _ send that list to me.”

“Of course.” Silence. “What time is it there?”

“What time is it?” he repeated, his breath sounding like he was on the verge of laughter. “It’s… the same time zone, we’re only an hour away.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” She covered her blushing face in embarrassment.

“How far did you think we are?”

“I don’t know, it felt… far.” 

A long pause followed and she pictured him swallowing. “Okay, so you know those buzzfeed quizzes we used to take?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, today, I found one that told me what type of pizza I am.”

“Oh no, please don’t say you got pineapple.” In spite of everything, her smile was almost giddy with relief that he was joking with her as if nothing had happened. 

“What do you have against pineapple!” 

“Nothing, it just doesn’t belong on pizza.”

“It’s refreshing!”

“Is that your result? Are you proud?”

He was laughing now, and the sound made her heart skip and smile widen. “Yes, if you must know, I was about to brag. And the description was pretty accurate, which is all that matters anyway.”

“Sure.”

“Here, I’ll send you the link and maybe you won’t be so hoity toity about it.”

They kept talking and emailing random links to each other, and it felt like he was there with her, leaning over her desk and eating jelly beans from the candy jar. She really missed this— how easily they could fall into casual conversation or how he could make her laugh, how quickly the time passed when he was around. She really missed  _ him. _

“No way,” she could hear him shaking his head in disbelief. “Gleb and Marfa? Really?”

“I’m serious! I saw them in the breakroom, like, standing back-to-back, holding hands, it was bizarre.”

“Does that mean they’re  _ together _ together? When the toaster set off the fire alarm they had this weird power struggle over who got to hold the first-aid kit, but that doesn't mean they were dating.”

“I mean— there’s definitely something going on. And Marfa keeps like… talking to me in code about it.”

“Wow, Romanov,” she could hear him smiling again, “great work. Speaking of Gleb, you should be expecting a package soon that’ll convince him I’ve been the Sheriff this whole time.”

She laughed harder than she had in a long time. “I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

After the laughter quieted, a silence followed, and she searched for something else to keep him on the phone that had nothing to do with the transfer or the kiss or Mikhal. But then he sighed and said, “I should probably get going.”

“Yeah,” the clock read a quarter till eight. “This is your bedtime.”

He laughed. “I guess so.”

Her hand tightened around the receiver. There was still so much to talk about— things she knew were painful, but even the little things that made her think of him throughout the day, the things that stacked up over the weeks in a  _ tell Dmitry _ pile in her mind. “Goodnight, then, Dmitry,” was all she said, not knowing when they’d talk again. 

She knew it was stupid. She knew it was dangerous. But her smile stayed plastered onto her face, embarrassingly wide, the whole drive home, her hands nearly purple from the cold, as she replayed the conversation over and over in her mind. 

* * *

Dmitry was almost certain he was happy again.

All the signs pointed to it. He was thriving in his new job, the city suited him well, he got along with his desk mate, Natalia. Sometimes, though, he caught himself glancing in the empty seat next to him during conference room meetings when he thought of a joke, but for the most part he thought he was in a good place. He didn’t think about a certain receptionist as much as he used to— or maybe he did, but he thought of her so often it was so natural he didn’t notice. He preferred to believe the former. On paper, he was completely and entirely and undoubtedly happy and over her. 

The news of the merger made his palms sweat, though. Their branch was closing due to budget cuts and he’d end up right back where he started. Okay. he could find peace with that. And there was no reason for him to be nervous. At least, that’s what he kept repeating to himself in the elevator on the way up to his old office. 

He walked through the door and the moment he locked eyes with her his entire resolve went out the window.

“Hi,” he started with a smile, attempting to mask his nerves, “I’m new here, I was wondering if you could—” Before he knew it Anya had leapt up from her desk to wrap her arms around him in a hug. “You interrupted my joke.”

“I don’t care,” she pulled away, her smile giddy and eyes bright. “Welcome back.”

His throat closed up. Before he could respond he felt a heavy hand land on his back and heard Vlad’s exuberant welcome and Gleb’s reluctant one, and then he was dragged to his old desk. 

In spite of everything, happiness and comfortable familiarity buzzed under his skin. He reminded himself that thinking of her like this had only ended in months of aching hurt, but how could she be bad? How could her joy that permeated the room, or the little smiles from behind her desk, or the way she smiled right before she laughed, be harmful? 

“Where do I stand with Anya?” The documentarian’s question was a valid one, but his first reaction was still guarded. He swallowed.  _ Real it in, Dmitry. _ “I don’t know. She said no to me, twice, like four months ago, and that’s fine. We’re still friends and that’s all I know at this point, and I think that’s what we’ll always be. Which is fine.”

He met the cameraman’s eyes and he knew he wasn’t hiding it well. 

At his desk, Anya plopped a mug of tea next to his keyboard. He grinned up at her. “Thank you, just like old times.”

“Yeah, you looked like you needed a pick-me-up.”

He quirked a brow. “Did I?”

“I mean—” she sighed, clearly flustered. He tried not to be amused. “I actually wanted to ask if— well, some of the other guys were talking about going out for drinks tonight, so I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip. “Who all is going?”

“It was Marfa’s idea, obviously, and I think if she’s going then Gleb will, and I know Greggory and Paulina said yes, and I don’t have anything better to do. And the transfers are invited too, which… includes you. Sort of.”

She wasn’t meeting his eyes. A few months ago he would’ve said yes in a heartbeat, but now, still trying to keep his heart on track and away from disrespecting her wishes, he couldn’t risk it. Distancing himself was the only solution, or he’d be right back where he started. “I actually had dinner plans tonight.”

“Oh.” She was clearly disappointed but he could tell she was trying to hide it. “Some other time, then.” And she marched back to her desk, not looking up at him for the rest of the day.

Later, in the parking lot on the way to his car, he caught sight of Anya on her way to her own, and he thought about following her. To make sure they were okay, they were still friends, to reiterate that he was over her. She had rejected him— twice, even if she kissed him back and his lips still tingled at the memory. Even if she still wasn’t married. Even if he still loved her. 

When he stuck his keys into the ignition he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. “Hey, Natalia,” he answered, “you still free for dinner?”

* * *

Ever since the merger, something was off. 

Anya knew from day one there was something going on between Dmitry and Natalia. The moment she had leaned against his desk like Anya used to, and rubbed his shoulder while he smiled up at her, had made Anya’s guts twist and swirl nauseously. Maybe it was unfair to be jealous after she turned him down and he respected her response, but she couldn’t stop the urge to barf from swooping up through her stomach at the sight. And, more pressingly, the few conversations they had were awkward and tense.

Attempting to remedy this, she found him finally alone in the break room. Sticking quarters into the vending machine to mask the real reason she was there, she said, “It’s Thursday but apparently Gleb thinks it’s Friday, so keep that up.”

He laughed but when she felt brave enough to look up at him he was staring at the floor. “I, uh, actually don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“Oh.” She didn’t expect that. 

“Yeah I’m… turning over a new leaf, I guess.”

He finally met her eyes again but the warmth was false, guarded. So she would be guarded too. “That’s… good. I mean, do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

His brow furrowed. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“You’re the one who—” he stopped.  _ No! _ She yelled with her eyes and her clenched fists, bracing for a fight, for anything other than this god awful silence.  _ Finish that thought! Let’s do this now! _ “You’re the one who encouraged me. To try.”

Her shoulders dropped and a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding loosened. Right. She did say all those months ago that he could have the world if he wanted, and when he went looking he found it. And she wasn’t included. “Right. Yeah. Good for you,” she tried.

He nodded with a small smile and brushed past her. She rose from picking up her soda from the machine and he was still there, half in and half out of the doorway. “We’re… okay, right?”

“Yeah,” she said way too quickly. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

His only response was a nod with pursed lips that may have been a smile before he backed away. 

A few weeks passed and they still kept skirting around each other. Awkward  _ how are you’s _ and glancing away from eyes that were looking back. Thankfully, though, Anya had some sort of distraction and hopefully the rest of the office was distracted enough not to notice. Vlad announced he and Lily were to be married and everyone here was invited.

The announcement did make her glance over at Dmitry, who mirrored her delighted and surprised expression, but she never really got the chance to discuss the turn of events with him. She wanted to talk about how they’d betted on how long that relationship would last and how apparently they were both wrong. But every time she had an opportunity to find him alone in the break room she felt like she was cornering him to give her attention, or something ridiculous, so she didn’t, not during the whole time between the announcement and the day of the wedding. 

Lily spared no expense, that was for sure. During the ceremony Anya was sandwiched between Marfa and Gleb, which was awkward, considering what she knew about them and how they kind of knew she knew but never acknowledged that fact outside of weird verbal codes. Other than that it was surprisingly sweet. 

The realization that she would’ve been the one saying I Do’s just a few months ago hit her in the middle of dinner. People had already started dancing but she was stuck staring at her plate, trying to remember why she’d even wanted to marry Mikhal in the first place, how she ended up here. The music slowed and she glanced up, which was a mistake because Dmitry was there, swaying with a smiling Natalia in his arms, and when he caught her staring and looking desolate she couldn’t take it anymore. 

She found herself on the back porch, face buried in her hands, sobs shaking her shoulders. Why did this hurt so much? She didn’t regret saying no, exactly, but this was more miserable than she could bear. She didn’t break things off with Mikhal because of Dmitry, she kept repeating to herself in her mind, because she couldn’t face the alternative. 

“Don’t worry,” said a deep voice from above, “there are no intruders at this party. We are safe.”

She was too busy crying and feeling sorry for herself to correct Gleb or to be embarrassed. A moment later she felt a piece of cold cloth tap her hand— his handkerchief. He wasn’t looking at her or showing any emotion, but she understood this was the kindest he probably would ever be. Must’ve been some weird unspoken thanks for keeping his secret, she guessed. It didn’t matter. 

But what shocked her most was what he said next. “You love him, don’t you.”

She was so surprised that her sobs stopped hiccuping through her body for a second. Was that true? Did she really love Dmitry in that way, or did she just miss his friendship? Or did she only make herself more lonely than she’d ever been in her entire life? 

The weight of it all crushed her. Even if she did love him, there was nothing she could do now— he’d clearly moved on and respected the boundary she built, and was happy, which was what he deserved, even if it meant his life didn’t include her, even if—

“You should tell him,” Gleb said. She’d forgotten he was there. “Holding it in will only make it worse, you know.” Footsteps, and then she was alone again. 

Thankfully no one else came outside. Or maybe they did but she just didn’t notice. Slowly she calmed down, brushed her cheeks, and made peace with the truths she’d been avoiding. 

It was time for some closure. 

* * *

“I’m going to meet up with some friends in the city, will you be okay?”

Dmitry snapped back to the present. He was in the waiting room clutching his satchel, ready for his interview at corporate in New York. A job had opened recently and he decided to take the plunge. “Yeah, I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Good luck!” Natalia kissed his cheek and left. Then he was called into the conference room before he had time to think about anything else, thankfully. 

“Well, Dmitry, I’m glad you finally decided to shoot for something bigger,” said a voice behind the desk. “I’ve heard good things about your job performance.”

“Thank you” was all he could think to say.

“Did you bring your numbers with you?”

“Yeah, I did.” He reached into his bag to pull out what he came here to do. When he opened the folder something made him stop cold. A blue yogurt lid. A sticky note with  _ Don’t forget us when you’re famous! Good luck :) _ scrawled in familiar script. Not hearing a single word the interviewer was saying, he wet his lips, his mind wandering to the corners he could never seem to avoid.

A couple of days ago Vlad had taken them to the coast for another one of his wild team-building exercises and tasked Anya with keeping score. Dmitry was reminded of the Olympic Games they played in the office a few years ago, watching her take meticulous notes the whole time, brows knit and tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Not that that was a relevant detail.

The day was actually pretty fun until the sun went down. Vlad mentioned he was interviewing for the open position at corporate and somehow thought a tournament like this would help him choose a replacement, but obviously that failed, and then Dmitry and Natalia snuck away to apply for the job as well. 

Vlad called everyone to sit around the fire so they could state their case as to why they should be manager. Of course Gleb was the first to stand and Vlad immediately waved him off. 

“But my father was once a manager and it’s in my blood! I have the best sales record, the most clients—”

“And you’re terrible at talking to people!”

“But—”

“Nope!” Vlad pointed down again, gesturing for him to sit. “Anya, cross Gleb off the list.”

“No! Anya, don’t cross me off!”

“Don’t listen to him!”

Dmitry could pinpoint the exact second she snapped. “No!” she shouted and tossed her notebook into the sand with a  _ smack. _ Her outburst shocked everyone silent, and even Gleb sat back down. She stood, fists at her sides, looking both angry and delighted that they actually listened. “Vlad, if you want me to take another stupid note again today, you’ll have to hire me as your replacement!”

Vlad audibly swallowed. Anya looked around, as if realizing she had everyone’s attention. “I know things have been weird since I broke up with Mikhal, but you all need to stop tiptoeing around me like I’m some broken bird. We don’t have to be friends but stop pretending like we can’t. And stop making me fix the copier.” Dmitry grinned.

She turned to him. “Dmitry, I called off my wedding because of you.”

His smile dropped. She kept looking at him like no one else was there, like nobody was listening. “I mean— there were other reasons, and it would’ve happened eventually I think, but honestly I didn’t care about any of those reasons until I met you.” He felt tears prick his eyes, the words hitting him like a brick to the chest. “And now it’s like— we’re not even friends. I get that you’re happy or whatever, but I miss talking to you, and I hate how weird things are. Between us. I don’t really know— I just— I miss you a lot. So let me know when you want to be friends again.”

She glanced away, as if aware of everyone else again, and wandered off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marfa staring at him like she was watching a train wreck and waiting for the collision. Feeling all eyes on him he stood and followed her to the water. 

“Did you mean all those things?” He tried, not knowing exactly how to start. This wasn’t really the best place. Then again, that hadn’t stopped her.

“Yeah,” she glanced up at him, “I did.”

He swallowed, unable to look away. “I guess I just… I know I transferred for a while, and I’m supposed to be back now but it feels like I never… came back.”

She nodded, somehow understanding his ramblings. She always somehow knew what he was trying to say. Or tried to understand, anyway. “Well… please come back.”

The breeze lifted her ponytail and the moon on the water was as bright as her eyes. “I’ll try,” he promised. Then, attempting to ease the tension a little, he held out his hand. “Friends?”

She grinned and shook his hand. “Deal.”

Now, staring blankly at the man who just asked him a simple question he couldn’t remember, he knew he would never have this job. He could get it right now if he tried, it wasn’t that, he just didn’t want it anymore. 

The world was waiting for him. And she wasn’t in New York. 

* * *

“Hey Anya, I miss talking to you. Things are  _ weird _ between us.”

Dunya giggled at Marfa’s loose reenactment of Anya’s outburst from the other night. Even Gleb smiled down at his desk, but Anya didn’t care. Nothing could touch her at this point. “Ha, very funny guys.”

Even though she was teased and mocked relentlessly back in the office, and even though Dmitry still left to interview for the job at corporate, she didn’t regret her words at all. For so long she had been accommodating for others and holding back from what she needed to do. Now she wasn’t going to let anyone— even Dmitry— stop her from living how she wanted to live. For three years now he was  _ eight feet _ away. Every day he was right there, until she watched him go. From this day on there would be no more mistakes like that. 

The day before, Dmitry had walked out the door side by side with Natalia, but she didn’t let the sight make her stomach curdle. “Good luck,” she called to him. No more sadness— only encouragement. He smiled and ducked his head like he always did when he didn’t know how to accept or offer gratitude. 

“Are you ready to do another talking head now?” The documentarian asked. The camera was set up in the conference room so everything was already prepared. She kept glancing at the clock, wondering how Dmitry’s interview went and what she would do when she got home, but she just sighed and nodded, accepting that maybe some kind of distraction would be better than pretending to work in the last fifteen minutes of the day. 

“I hope he gets the job,” she started, truthfully. “I mean, I’ve always known he has potential for a brighter path, and I guess he finally listened.”

The documentarian gestured for her to keep going. To say what she didn’t want to say, but had to. 

“He and I just… never got the timing right. And that’s okay. We tried, but our paths just never aligned, and maybe we weren’t meant to be. I can take a hint. But I’m glad I said it, and honestly, I’m glad he found someone to be happy with. I’m fine, I’ve made my peace, everything is going to be—“

The door swung open. “Hey, Anya, sorry I’m—“ that voice made Anya’s head snap up. He was there, extra tall from this angle, flushed from rushing up the stairs, holding a hand in front of him as if to calm the documentarian who hated any interruptions. Then he captured her gaze as if she were the only thing in the world. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“Yes,” she responded before she even processed what he asked. 

“Cool,” Dmitry smiled, bright and genuine, and tapped the doorframe. “It’s a date, then.” And then he disappeared as suddenly as he arrived. 

She bit her lip, blinking back tears, her heart racing and finally realizing what just happened. The grin that bloomed on her face probably looked ridiculous. Remembering she wasn’t alone, she met the camera man’s eyes, who was holding back his own smile, and then the documentarian’s, who seemed torn between annoyance and delight that he was able to catch her reaction on film. Then Anya remembered why she was there and the silence was probably too uncomfortable by now. “Um— what was the question?” But before they could re-ask she shook her head and realized she didn’t want to spend this moment with a couple of half-strangers who sort of knew too much about her life. “Nevermind— I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Outside the conference room she grabbed her coat from her desk. Dmitry was still at the door and the office had mostly cleared out by now. “You ready?” he asked.

She nodded. God, if only he knew. 

They walked out together, and when she knew they’d be out of sight from the cameras or the few coworkers left in the office she slid her hand into his, his fingers slotting into place like they’d been intertwined the whole time, like it belonged there. He had the smallest smile on his lips as he looked ahead. Maybe she had been right all along— maybe love really was supposed to be comfortable and familiar. He asked her how her day went, she asked how the drive was, and somehow the un-specialness of the conversation made it all the more beautiful.

Anya wouldn’t get her hopes up about how this date would go. But if it ended with them making out in her car like a couple of teenagers, she wouldn’t be upset. 


End file.
